


Rumor Has It

by Slumber



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Slytherins Being Slytherins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-07
Updated: 2011-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:07:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26406964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slumber/pseuds/Slumber
Summary: Scandal breaks out when Rita Skeeter finds out who Theodore Nott has been seeing.
Relationships: Theodore Nott/??
Kudos: 3
Collections: 30-minute Writer's Block Challenge





	Rumor Has It

**Author's Note:**

> This has secretly been a ship of mine since the idea first popped in my head. I've kind of wanted to write about it for a while now but this is the first time (ish) that I've succeeded. Yayyyy.

i.

Rita Skeeter has a field day when she finds out, crouched on a straying leaf beneath the summer moon, her tiny beetle wings fluttering and stilling with the whisper of the wind. She watches, eyes keen and nerves prickling, as two figures make their way from the crowded ballroom, away from the bright lights and gales of laughter into somewhere quieter, somewhere darker, somewhere more private. Somewhere they can be alone.

She almost falls over in shock, and her tiny insect legs cannot cling to her leaf hard enough. She waits a second, then another, thanking the gods and her lucky stars and the hunch she'd had (though it had been misguided, and she'd thought to catch something else), wishing only she had a way to take photos when in her Animagus form.

She takes the chance to fly away once she's sure of her facts, once she has the beginnings of a deliciously scandalous headline formed in her head, her wings buzzing unnoticed in the wake of a happy sigh.

The Daily Prophet notices a spike in sales the very next day--a smidgen, a blip, not nearly enough to pull the struggling paper from the edge of bankruptcy--but it is enough to catapult Rita Skeeter back to infamy.

It is all she ever wanted.

ii.

Daphne Greengrass shrieks, spills her morning tea on her 100-galleon _cream-colored_ skirt, and screams once more. Her fingers shake as she rolls the paper up in a tightly curled fist, her heart beating a loud and angry protest against her chest. She ignores her mother when Helene asks her what is wrong, heading straight for the Floo and dousing it with powder that's just as green as envy.

"Is this true?" she demands once she's in the Nott Manor, her heels click-clacking in a staccato beat against the marble floor of the manor's foyer. Theodore barely has a chance to look up from his breakfast at the head of the table--he dines alone, as per usual--before she thrusts the paper to his face, the headline on page six, society, a glaring black on newspaper brown.

"It must be, if Skeeter's written about it," is the response she gets. Theodore never had been the sort to get rattled, and she wonders briefly if maybe she'd been played for a fool.

"Don't even try talking yourself around it," she seethes, ego bruised anew. They'd ended their relationship only a few months ago, but the vagueness of Theodore's excuses now return to haunt her. She'd suspected he'd been hiding something, but _this_? "You owe me as much, don't you think?"

She doesn't think pulling that card will work at all, but somehow it does. Theodore mutters his apologies, sighs his explanations, and the truth doesn't hurt any less when it's coming straight from the horse's mouth than when it's bleeding in black ink from The Daily Prophet.

The halls of Nott Manor echo with the sound her open palm makes when it connects with his cheek. 

iii.

"If you're here to judge me, I've had my fair dose of it already this morning," Theodore says by way of greeting when he opens the door to Draco at noon.

"It's true, then?"

Theodore shows him the side of his cheek, stinging red with a handprint. "Daphne wanted to know. Shall I turn the other cheek?"

Draco snorts. "Save it for later," he says, shrugging in past Theodore. "I was promised lunch."

"Mimsy's getting it ready."

"The world's properly abuzz, I hope you realize." 

"I'd feared as much. Do you happen to know when--"

"His International Portkey is scheduled to arrive at quarter past three," Draco says. "I suggest you ward yourself."

Theodore wrinkles his nose instead, Summons a bottle of whiskey that he opens with ease. "I understand it might be a bit early--"

"Hell, you're going to need it." Draco pours them both a glass, his gaze thoughtful as he considers his next words. "How long?"

"How long?"

"You needn't play dumb with me, Nott."

"Of course not." Theodore takes a swig of his glass. "Ten years."

Draco chokes on his whiskey. " _Years_? Since--"

"Summer of sixth?" Theodore, at last, has the grace to look apologetic. "Sorry, it was just--"

"Bloody hell, don't need to explain," Draco mutters. He glances at Theodore again. "Is it worth it, then? You realize--"

"I do. It is."

iv.

As suspected, Blaise is none too pleased when he arrives, but even Theodore does not expect the extent of his reaction when the man barrels through his wards, which cave flimsily under the strength of his wrath, and screams for his head.

"You _bastard_!" Blaise curses, a string of expletives out of his mouth even as Theodore begins ducking hex after curse after--holy _hell_ , two Unforgiveables!

"For _Merlin's sake_ ," Theodore hisses, taking an open opportunity whilst Blaise is in a blind rage and Disarming him. He ties him up quickly, sedates him, but even when Blaise's breathing begins to slow and his pulse no longer wildly beating Theodore does not take any chances. He keeps Blaise tied up, his wand nowhere near he can reach.

"I didn't mean for you to find out this way," he starts to explain, flinching at the murder in Blaise's almond eyes. "Trust me, this was nowhere near... where or what I thought it'd be."

He apologizes, he explains, he doesn't let Blaise scream or interrupt until he is done.

And even then, he doesn't undo the Incarcerous Charm he's cast on Blaise. He slips out of his manor, sends Draco a quick owl to deal with the aftermath, and flies away. He still isn't sure what he's said is enough.

v.

Isabella Zabini acts like nothing different has transpired in between the kiss they shared at last night's gala and the dinner they're enjoying at her Tuscan villa. 

"Your son knows," Theodore tells her, and she only rolls her eyes and slices herself a slab of steak.

"As does the rest of the world," she says. "So what?"

Theodore frowns. "It doesn't bother you?"

"Does it bother _you_?"

He shakes his head. "I assumed there was a reason we kept it quiet all this time."

She laughs. "Yes, there were. Edward, and William, and Percival, and shall I go on?"

"You're mocking me again."

"I'm not," she says, placing her hand on his arm. Her palm is smooth, uncalloused by luxury. She's always oozed with elegance and sophistication but when she squeezes his arm, when she smiles, her eyes twinkle with a warmth that Theodore's sure only he's witnessed, that only he's been given the privilege to see. "So the truth's out. It's about time, don't you think?"

"Is it?"

"You've noticed I haven't been seen with anyone since Percival."

"It _has_ been nearly a year."

"It hasn't been for a lack of prospects."

"Oh?"

"I'm done with that nonsense, Teddy."

Despite himself, Theodore can't help smiling. He leans in and captures Isabella's lips between his own.

This time, he does not care who sees.

**Author's Note:**

> Please consider donating to local organizations who support trans individuals in your area.


End file.
